


The heist of a lifetime

by Its_Ours_And_Its_Everything



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Love/Hate, Other, con artist/ special ops, thief/con artist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Ours_And_Its_Everything/pseuds/Its_Ours_And_Its_Everything
Summary: Brienne Tarth is a notorious thief and con-artist best know by her professional name- Laverna. Her latest job was supposed to be a quick one, but nothing is ever easy where Jaime Lannister is concerned.Jaime Lannister is former navy, special ops. He has become a thorn in Brienne's side without even realizing it.What happens when these two clash in the most unexpected ways? Their lives change forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my first time posting for Jaime x Brienne so we'll see how things go. Feedback is always appreciated :)

When sizing up a potential mark, a thief must always answer one crucial question before committing to the job.

Is the risk worth the reward?

 I bet it sounds simple enough. Unfortunately, it's anything but. Take Brienne’s current situation, as an example. After weeks of gathering intel, preparations of the highest caliber and an airplane flight halfway around the world everything could fall apart because of one unexpected complication— Jaime fucking Lannister. She hated him already, he was ruining what was to be a fairly easy and doable job with a good payout. Brienne was comfortably tucked in a discreet corner of an outdoor bar at a luxury resort in St. Barts, sipping a classic margarita and pretending to be fascinated by a gossip column section of a magazine while actually performing covert reconnaissance through the mirrored lenses of her sunglasses. Her latest and unexpected target—or her mark, in criminal parlance—was splashing around in the resort pool several feet away, laughing loudly, a head of golden blond just barely curly hair thrown back any time one of the pretty waitresses brought him a drink, the picture perfect smile shining as bright as the tropical sun. Most women would melt at the sight of a smile like that. Brienne, however, saw it for what it truly was— a predator opening his  jaws, his sharp white teeth trying to lure in the next round of victims into an endless cycle of one night stands. There could be arguments made they knew what they would be getting when going in, but that was rarely the case. The most natural of reactions for women was to try and change or tame the man they desired for so long, especially when he finally was within their grasp. Naively thinking  _I'll be the one he'll change for. This time it will be different._ But it never is. For one Jaime Lannister at least.

Ugh. Men like him. Always the boisterous laughs and holier than thou complexes. This particular one had the muscular, golden good looks of an ancient Greek god. At first glance, he could be mistaken for an actor or a model, maybe even one of those self-obsessed fitness freaks who was on a strict plant-based diet 24/7. To say those guesses would be far from the truth would be an understatement of the century. Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock was daddy's heir apparent to a multi-million dollar family business. There were few who didn't know who Tywin Lannister was and how proudly he loved to remind everyone that Lannisters always pay their debts. It's become a known threat among business colleagues and rivals alike. But on closer inspection, interesting details emerge: The Navy seal tattoo on his right shoulder. The hawklike awareness in his light green eyes. The three bullet scars marring the taut skin of his stomach. Brienne’s seen enough bullet scars to recognize them. Knowing that Jaime Lannister had survived something like that made him intriguing. In her experience, most people died after one shot.

The golden lion, as the press have dubbed him, was sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the crystal clear water, chatting and laughing with the most unlikely of companions: A brunette with a constellation of tattoos on her slender limbs had her arms linked around the neck of a small man with strawberry blond hair and a Cheshire like cat smile that was mostly covered in a dark beard. A little further from the trio sat at least a three-hundred-pound burly Caucasian man with a medieval looking beard, wearing a black speedo and gobbling his 7th glass of beer, he had been grumbling about the possibility of increased taxes for the wealthy while,presumably, his wife couldn't keep her eyes from rolling in the back of her head. Wearing a neon-pink bikini that Brienne could never pull off she was the definition of grace and beauty. The strawberry blond locks falling just bellow her breasts, the incredible forest green eyes, complexion and figure every woman would kill for could make even the most confident of men falter. Once upon a time Brienne would have been one of those people. Trying to compare herself, overthink why wasn't she blessed with the conventionally good looks, thinking where did it all go wrong, but if you wanted to thrive in her kind of business you had to make each weakness your strength, wear it like a badge of honor and pride so no one could use it against you. Rule No. 1—project what you want your targets to see. Confidence is key part of the con. Rule No. 2—Lure them in with whatever is necessary whether it's a confident, all made up barbie doll or a shy tomboy. No target was the same so no cover would ever be the same either. It made for quite an eventful life if Brienne had to be honest. If not only for the fact that it was all fake. Sometimes she didn’t even know where her cover began and where the real Brienne ended. As she watched Cersei Lannister Brienne could see she exuded cold authority and if it weren't for her nasty nature she’d heard about she could even admire the woman.

After a few moments, a girl swam to the edge of the pool and pulled herself up with her skinny arms to sit beside Brienne’s target, her back turned the other way, making it hard to see her features. Ah, it must be his niece, Robert and Cersei's daughter—Myrcella. If Podrick's intel was to be believed, and of course it was, there were supposed to be two more boys, but she had yet to see them.

"Another margarita, ma'am?" A smiling waiter in white shorts and a polo shirt bent over Brienne.

"No, thank you." The waiter nodded and walked away.

She took the assignment because on paper, this job seemed straightforward. Gain access to the room of honeymooning Sultan of Brunei Hassanal Bolkiah, relieve his new bride of her wedding present—a one-hundred-carat emerald necklace encrusted with various gemstones and with an estimated thirty-carat diamond as it’s centerpiece and escape without a pissed Sultan gunning for her ass. In reality, there were a few substantial kinks. One, The Sultan was always escorted by a hoard of heavily armed bodyguards. Two, the necklace wouldn't be sitting out in the open, waiting to be swiped. Cracking a safe was unavoidable. And safe cracking took time, especially if done quietly. Three, there was only one road to and from this exclusive resort, which would quickly be shut down if the necklace was discovered to be missing, thereby blocking Brienne’s exit unless she could arrange to escape via scuba gear into the Caribbean Sea. Which she won't, because she can't swim. (If that's not irony Brienne didn’t know what was as she grew up in an island). And last but not least, there was the problem of Jaime Lannister who was staying in the room directly beneath The Sultan's suite. That was the unexpected part of the mission because that room was supposed to be Brienne’s for a good reason. See, the suite was an advantage point in her plan— It involved a climb up a drainpipe and a series of low walls, but she couldn't hack the front door keycard reader as she normally would because The Sultan's door was guarded by men with semiautomatic weapons, so the only other way in was through the balcony. And the only way to get there is from the balcony of the room she booked. But Jaime fucking Lannister’s wishes for a sea-side ocean view were far more important to the resort staff than the unknown woman who had booked the suite. So accommodations were made. Brienne had no other choice but to suck it up and move suites. And that left her with the only possible option—become the Margaery of the con. If properly handled, he could invite her up for a nightcap, thereby providing access to The Sultan's suite via the balcony. Unfortunately,Jaime Lannister was far more important than Brienne would have ever imagined, because in addition to the keycard reader, he’d installed a portable door lock with an alarm that would sound off if the door was opened. And if he'd gone to the trouble to do that, the probability that there were other security devices inside was high. Which meant her best bet to safely access his room was by "befriending" the man himself. She hated mission like this, Brienne was far better at stealing things than manipulating people into submission, but she had little choice in the matter. She had called Margaery asking to fly out, she was always the distraction of any sort while Brienne took off with the precious cargo, with no one ever being the wiser. They made quite a team with Margaery’s unquestionable confidence and beauty and Brienne’s ability to appear invisible and quick without rousing any suspicions. But this time the whole operation was on Brienne’s shoulders. Margaery was in Peru on another assignment.

“You’ll be fine, Bri. You’re the infamous Laverna. One of the best thieves in the industry. We went through the same training, you know how to manipulate people just as well as I do. You just always chose to give me the honors. It’s your turn now. Remember the only thing men care for is what’s between our legs. This won’t be any different. Just use it to your advantage.” She had said when Brienne called to complain about a thorn of a size of one Jaime Lannister in her side.

 Luckily,for Brienne, Jaime just glanced at her for the third time in five minutes. She thought she’d have to get a few drinks in him before the thought of taking her back to his room would become less and less unappealing. He probably viewed women as prizes in his collection and she was to be just another notch in his bedpost.. Apparently he had never had an overly tall, broad shouldered, freckled woman with a more than once broken nose before. Everyone said she’d taken after her father, if you asked her, she’d tell you she looked like a hobbit. Not that it was a bad thing in and of itself, but certainly not helpful in seducing handsome men who carried themselves as if their whole life had been one extended homecoming king coronation party. Bless Brienne’s late mother, for her long legs and high cheekbones were all her. The problem was the golden Lannister wasn’t  your average skirt chasing playboy with more money to burn than brains. Though he worked hard to appear that way, but she saw past his facade. He was a lion in sheep's clothing, and this one had a taste for blood. Which brought Brienne back to her original question.

Was the risk worth the reward?

Of course it was. Lions were no match for her.

                                                                                                               ******

It was time to put her game face on. If Brienne believed long enough she was a sultry seductress so would he. It was all about perception.

Smiling, Brienne rose from her chair and headed to the bar, walking slowly so he could take his time eyeing her bare legs, that seemed to go on forever. First thing you had to learn in Brienne’s line of work was how to use your feminine wiles. And as much as she liked to deny it, Brienne definitely mastered this form of manipulation. Not that she ever used it. She liked to think of herself as a con artist with a bit of integrity still left in her. Apparently trying to manipulate people to her advantage was where she drew the line. But the universal truth was that almost all men or women she had to steal from only cared about sex and it seemed the Golden son of Tywin Lannister was no exception. He slid off the edge of the pool and stood waist-deep in the water so that he probably could get a better look at her retreating form. How long will it take him to make his move? Judging by the way he was staring, another five minutes, tops.

"Do you have a lunch menu?" Brienne asked the bartender as she took a seat and crossed her legs. She was wearing a sapphire blue maillot that set off her ivory skin and complimented her ocean blue eyes, plus it showcased what little cleavage Brienne had. On top of that there’s a sheer cover-up that skimmed the top of her bare thighs. After years of doing this kind of work, even from this distance, Brienne could feel his gaze on her back, hotter than the Caribbean sun.

"Of course," said the bartender, a seriously young and annoyingly chipper woman. 

"The conch croquettes are amazing." She pretended to go through the menu while eavesdropping on the Lannister clan.

Thefirst thing Brienne noted was that her mark had a Northern European drawl to go along with his good looks and green eyes. Norway? No, Denmark was more likely.

"I'll try them, thank you," She told the bartender, letting the lilt of a fake Spanish accent infiltrate her words as she listened lazily to the small man who she had identified as the youngest Lannister and the black sheep of the family go on and on about how Jaime never took any time off from work and this break should be the beginning of a big fuck you to their father. Brienne continued to eavesdrop swinging her leg back and forth, a black widow patiently waiting for her prey to enter the web.

"Speaking of breaks, I need another drink. Anybody else ready?". He took drink orders from his family. Brienne could  hear the splash as he jumped out of the pool. Trying not to smirk, she started a silent countdown in her head. Five, four, three, two—

"Excuse me, bartender? Can we get another round?" 

Brienne opened her eyes to find him standing next to her. Damn it, he was even more handsome in close proximity. Thank the gods the sunglasses hid her reaction better than she ever could. The bartender nodded in acknowledgment. Then Jaime turned his head and looked straight at Brienne. A weird sort of electricity jolted through her when their eyes met. It's disturbing how strong it was. It's been years since she felt serious attraction to anyone, and pretty blond boys weren't her type in the first place. Dark and dangerous? More Brienne’s thing. Although, admittedly Jaime Lannister had the dangerous part down. The look in his moss green eyes was anything but tame.

"Hi there," he said, staring at her with blazing intensity.

Here was the part where she needed to figure out his type. Did he prefer dumb and bubbly? Smoldering seductress? Girl next door? There's a key that unlocks the door to every man's libido. And once his libido was engaged, his brain would take a nap for the duration of the conversation.

"Hello," Brienne said neutrally. Neither of them smiled. She removed her sunglasses and brandished her best feature, the secret weapon— her eyes. Her father used to say they reminded him of the blue waters of Tarth. Jaime’s composure seemed to falter for a moment once he got a good look at Brienne’s face. Not something he expected for sure, but she learned long ago to work a man with the best and only physical asset she had. And as he continued to stare into her eyes Brienne knew it was working. Unfortunately he seemed to shake off the daze and asked, "What part of Spain are you from?"

Brienne had to physically force herself not to blink. There was a slight difference between a Castilian and Latin American accents, and the fact that he picked it out was alarming. Also impressive. She was inclined to enjoy his keen eye, but of course she didn’t allow herself to.

"You know Spanish?" Brienne asked coyly, trying her best to avoid his question.

Jaime cocked his head. "A little."

Hmm. That could mean he's only seen the country in movies, or he lived there for years. He's giving away about as much as she was.

"The Andalusia region," she parried, testing him. "Seville."

His face remained impassive. "Luxurious neighborhood. You from there originally?"

Brienne got the sense he was testing her, too. Why did she like it? Probably because he’s the first mark she actually had to try and figure out. Others were usually too predictable and drove her to boredom quickly. Not Jaime Lannister though. She decided to change the subject to see how he would handle it. "What's your name?"

One corner of his mouth turned up. A roguish little dimple appeared in his cheek. "You avoided my question."

"And you just avoided mine."

"Yeah, but only because you started it."

"Funny, you don't strike me as a man who lets anyone else take the lead."

He chuckled. "Sometimes relinquishing control can be very liberating.”

Now they were smiling at each other. For the first time in a long time, Brienne was having what could almost be described as fun. The bartender arrived with the drinks. "Shall I charge it to your room, Mr. Lannister?"

"Yes, thank you.” The bartender left with a promise that her conch croquettes were almost ready.

"So, Mr. Lannister, where in Denmark are you from?" If he's surprised she pegged his slight accent, he doesn't show it. He lifts a shoulder, self-confident, nonchalant. "Little town nobody's ever heard of. I’ve spent my childhood there before my family moved."

"Oh come on. Now you have to tell me."

The dent in his cheek grew deeper. "Rudkøbing. "

Brienne’s smile widened. Unfortunately for him and his ego, she had spent a lot of time in Northern Europe.

"Home to the annual Langelands festival. Cute little historic town that dates all the way back to the 13th century. There's, what, 3 thousand residents in Rudkøbing?" She recited as best as she could remember the summary of the town she received from Pod this morning.

Jaime’s hawklike eyes watched her with blistering focus. "Five. What did you say your name was?"

Brienne let the silence stretch out between them before softly saying, "I didn't."

When his eyes flash with unquestionable interest, she knows how she’s going to play him. He liked a challenge. Which meant Earth Mother, Girl Next Door, and Dumb and Bubbly were all out the window, and Smoldering Seductress was in the house. Ugh she hated this one. Made her feel cheap. Figured a Lannister would go for these kinds of women. Brienne moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, lowered her chin, and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Jaime set his empty beer bottle on the counter and slid onto the barstool next to her, all without taking his gaze from Brienne’s eyes. He leaned closer. He was bare chested, barefoot, and soaking wet from the waist down.

"So," he says, "my brother over there thinks I’ve lost my game since the last time he saw me and I can’t get you to spend the evening with me. Care to help me prove him wrong? I think we could become the best of friends.” His lethal smile sent a shiver down Brienne’s spine.

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed at his directness. "I don't know. Perhaps we should take a moment to discuss your definition of 'friends'." Jaime’s five-o'clock shadow glinted along his square jaw. If she were any other kind of woman, this man would be devastating.

A slight smirk graced his already handsome features “Anything you want it to be.”

Did he think she was a prostitute? Brienne wasn’t offended, but this was awfully forward, even for him. Most men took a lot longer than five minutes to get to the propositioning and that was _if_ they ever proposition _her_. Obviously he wasn’t like most men. She needed to be careful with this one. When he leaned back, Brienne tilted her head and considered him. She wasn’t going to lie she was very tempted, there hadn’t been a man in a long time that seemed to truly desire someone like her, but she didn’t ever sleep with a mark. It was a policy she had never broken. If he took her up to his room, Brienne would slip two potent pills into his drink that would conveniently allow her to side step the minefield of sex with a stranger.

"I already have a lot of friends." She said it with just enough warmth that he knew it wasn’t a brushoff. Still playing the part. Always playing a part…

"I find it hard to believe." His tone changed as he looked her up and down with a trained eye and a grin spread across his face. The jab didn’t miss Brienne, but it’s not a first time someone took a chance to insult her looks. Did he get off on insulting his potential conquests? That wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. There were far more disgusting rumors swirling around the Lannister family, him and his sister being the best example. Brienne knew she shouldn’t, but as she’d come to realize this man seemed to bring out the worst in her.

“Why do you need new friends? Seems like someone’s already very much interested”. Brienne discretely pointed over his shoulder to Cersei who’d been keeping her eye on him during the entire conversation.

His shit eating grin faded. “That’s my sister”.

“Is she now? My apologies. She’s one of those protective siblings, then?”. Brienne asked with the most innocent smile she could muster. Yet she reveled in how uncomfortable he had just become. Clearly she’d hit a nerve.

“You can say that”.

“Well, maybe you should get back. Seems like your companions are about to leave.” She only had 24 hours to do the job and she needed to get into his suite tonight. The less interested she appeared the better. Men like Jaime Lannister hated being dismissed. Even by the likes of her.

"They can wait. I want to get to know you better”. Bingo. He was truly making this too easy for her.

"Are you flirting with me?" Bat, bat, bat go her eyelashes. Just like she’d seen Margaery do hundred of times.

"Would you mind if I were?"

All her nerve endings sat up and sucked in a startled breath. Suddenly Brienne was filled with longing so strong and bittersweet, it stole her breath. She wished she were a normal woman, a tourist on vacation with her friends who could indulge herself in a summer fling with a sexy stranger. She wished she could forget all the sins that led her to this moment. But she couldn’t. They followed her like a shadow, dogging her every step. Brienne’s only path to freedom was repayment of her debts, and The Sultan’s new bride's emerald necklace was next on her debtor's list. So she smiled, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pretended to be someone she wasn’t, stuffing her longing for a different life into a dark, abandoned corner of her heart where all her other useless yearnings went.

"I don’t even know your name," Brienne said lightly. When he smiled, he did it with his whole body. It's like he lit up from the inside out. "Jaime. My name’s Jaime.” he said.

For some reason she wanted at least one thing between her and this stranger to be real. Before she could think better of it she offered Jaime her hand "Brienne Tarth." That was her first mistake.  _Never reveal your true identity, especially on a job._ She could already imagine Podrick and Margaery never letting her live this one down.

Jaime nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you,Brienne." His warm hand held hers far longer than appropriate for two strangers and Brienne couldn’t help but smile because she knew she had him right where she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey it's me again ^_^  
> So apparently there are a few people who are interested where this is going to go so I'm posting the 2nd chapter!  
> I'm probably gonna update once a week from now on, twice if I have spare time.  
> Hope you guys enjoy it :)

"This is already turning out to be a fantastic friendship." Jaime proclaimed after a few moments right before Brienne gently took her hand from his grasp.

"How so?" She asked. But before Jaime could answer the waitress arrived with her order. When she glared at her as she set the plate down on the bar, Brienne realized she was hoping to be in the exact position she was now. _You and every other woman in the place, sweetie._ She smiled blandly at her. The waitress stalked off like a wounded kitten. "Hey, Blue." When Brienne glanced at him sharply, he explained "I'm calling you Blue now. Because of those big blue eyes of yours. Less formal, since we're such good friends and all."

"I don't make friends easily." She threw him one of her signature cheeky smiles. Making sure that he knew she wasn't being serious. Brienne didn't want to seem desperate but neither did she want to appear too eager.

"Let's change that, then. My family's having dinner tonight before everyone goes their separate ways. Join me." This was what she was waiting for. It would seem perfectly normal if dinner lead to him inviting her to his suite. And yet Brienne could see the challenge in his eyes. It's as if he wanted her to play hard to get. Ah, the chase could be as addictive as the prize itself. She knew it from fist hand experience, never mind that her prizes always ended up being of some kind of monetary value and Jaime's were actual living and breathing women.

"I don't think that's a good—". Before she could even try to muster another excuse the boisterous Lannister only rolled his eyes before continuing to ignore her protests. "I have to go distribute these drinks so I want you to sit here and think about what you're going to say to me when I get back. And it better be good."

Brienne watched him walk off back to the pool, back to his brother and his lady friend. Cersei and Robert appeared to have left the area. The audacity of this man. She had yet to meet someone as arrogant as Jaime Lannister. And she'd been around the block, literally speaking. Brienne wished she could smack away the smug look from his face, but that wasn't going to get her very far. She needed to stay in his good graces, at least for the foreseeable future. Jaime exchanged a few words with his companions, whatever his deal with his sister, it's pretty clear Jaime's relationship with his brother was full of respect, loyalty and love. Which she found hard to comprehend because it was hard to believe any Lannister was capable of having even the tiniest hint of those qualities. Before she could delve into his seemingly complicated psyche Jaime was returning with the focused concentration of a predator contemplating a meal. Why that should be such a fucking turn-on, Brienne had no idea.

The golden boy stopped beside her and leaned an elbow on the bar. "So. What'd you come up with, Blue?" When she tried to open her mouth, because gods that nickname was making her hackles rise Jaime warned her, "And remember, it better be good."

She waited for a beat and then tartly said, "Is it my turn to talk now?"

"Be my guest," He conceded mildly. A secretive smile hovered around his lips.

"You haven't even asked what I'm doing in St. Barts." She leaned back and lazily selected one of the croquettes from the plate. "I could be vacationing with my husband."

"No ring." He countered.

"My boyfriend, then." Brienne offered up another alternative.

"You don't have a boyfriend." The tone of total confidence made her arch an eyebrow. "No? What makes you so certain of that?" Brienne knew she certainly didn't fit the conventional beauty standards, but if she truly wanted to she could find a guy.

"Because, you look at me like a little kid looks at all the presents under the tree on Christmas morning, and you're not the type of woman who cheats on her man. You're too serious for that, even though you try to seem carefree."

Brienne tried her best to suppress the look of surprise and equal measure of irritation that instantly crossed her face. "I had no idea I was so transparent." She bit back, forgetting for a second that she was supposed to be playing him— not the other way around.

Choosing to ignore her less than pleasant reaction, Jaime quickly back-paddled by asking "So what did bring you to St. Barts?"

"Work. I'm investigating a lead about a potential investment on behalf of my boss." Which wasn't technically a lie. She was sent here by her handler to steal a necklace which _would_ be quite an investment to the firm.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises." The bane of Brienne's existence smiled before taking a sip of his drink and looking into the distance.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." He announced abruptly, returning his gaze back to her.

"Me, too." If things go her way, that is.

"So...How about it?" Brienne knew exactly what he meant. Jaime Lannister wanted her to submit. Brienne's lips curved upward. "I appreciate your candor, Mr. Lannis—"

"Jaime," He corrected her. "Good friends call each other by their first names, Blue." His eyes did this incredible thing when he smiled. They sparkled like sunshine glimmering off of the deepest part of a forest.

"Okay," She continued. "As I was saying, I appreciate your candor, _Jaime_. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted, but I don't usually do things like this." Again. Not a complete lie. For some weird reason she found it difficult to lie to this man.

"You're the most frustrating woman I have ever met! It's dinner I'm not asking for your hand in marriage". He wasn't even trying to disguise how much he was enjoying this, and by this Brienne meant the constant need to push her buttons. Even though she was playing right into his hands, riling and buttering him up as the need arose.

"Come on, wench. I'm not as bad as I appear to be."

It was time, any longer and he might grow frustrated and decide to hell with her. Brienne couldn't have that. She purposely adapted an annoyed expression before saying: "Fine. It's seems it's the only thing that's gonna get you off my back."

There was a part of her that was thrilled about the way things were going. Jaime Lannister was making this all extremely easy on her, that's for sure. But there's that other part of her—a bigger part—that was worried.

Jaime intrigued her.

And for someone in Brienne's line of work, that could turn out to be deadly.

"Dinner's at seven," Jaime said, smiling his signature cocksure smile. "What room you in, Blue? I'll pick you up."

No matter how much she enjoyed him, the odds of her letting this man into her room that was full of tactical plans, Sultan's schedule and her very expensive spy toys were about as good as the odds that lightning would strike Brienne dead where she was sitting.

"Let's meet in the lobby." Before he could ask why Brienne stood up "See you at seven". His only response was a brilliant smile.

As she walked away, Brienne was convinced she had made a miscalculation. She was dealing with something far more dangerous than a lion.

                                                                                                            * * * * * *

Back in her room, Brienne unlocked the safe and removed the burner phone she'd bought at the airport. A number she knew by heart was dialed. There was a distant hiss, then a click as the line was answered.

"You reached Pod," said a young, annoyingly innocent voice.

"It's Laverna," She repeated her code name, relieved. Podrick always answered the line, and he was the most reliable tech geek she knew, but there were so few reliable things in this world, she still couldn't take him for granted. Podrick, Margaery and Brienne came up together and stuck together over the years. They were the closest thing Brienne had to a family, besides her father, of course.

"Brienne! How's the Caribbean treating you? Man, I wish I was there!" he answered, pleased. "Have you completed your mission?"

"It's just peaches, Pod. Nothing like stealing from an Arabian Sultan to get the juices flowing. I need to check a source." It wasn't hard to detect the sarcasm, especially for Podrick who knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.

A short pause followed. "Oh, that can't be good... Wait a minute." Fingers tapping a keyboard thousands of miles away could be heard through the line. "Proceed."

"Jaime Lannister. Dig deeper than the background check before. I want to know everything and that includes what he ate for breakfast last night, dammit." Brienne released a frustrated sigh.

"You know in our line of work plans often go awry. We adapt it's what we do,Bri."

"Easy to say that when you're sitting behind a desk most of the time, doing god knows what while I am actually in the field!!"

"Easy there, tiger. Don't hate the playa hate the game". Came Pod's usual response whenever she started to complain. And these days she was complaining a lot.

"Oh, I do. Very much."

"Here we go. Male, thirty-six, Danish, from Denmark, Rudkøbing. Moved to the U.S.A at the age of ten when his father's businesses went international."

"I could have found that out on google, Podrick. I need something I can use against him, preferably. Or just to get a general insight to who he truly is". More typing. She knew it wouldn't be long, but she was impatient anyway, tapping her foot on the plush carpet as she waited.

Finally, an excited chuckle came through the phone. "Oh my. That's quite a smile. I've seen sharks less deadly. Careful, my darling, this one's got a serious bite."

"Tell me."

"Jaime Lannister born August tenth, nineteen eighty-three, to Joanna Lannister a stay at home wife and Tywin Lannister a self made entrepreneur." Podrick's pause dripped with amusement.

"August tenth," Brienne mused. "So he's a Leo. That fits."

Pod sighed. She could almost hear the eye roll. "Astrology isn't an actual science, you dork."

"I know, but there could be something to it. If you met him, you'd agree he's very lion like."

Podrick continued, sounding even more amused. "Two siblings: A twin sister Cersei and younger brother Tyrion, graduated Columbia university top of his class." Pod paused for a moment. "Mother died during childbirth." The breath left Brienne's chest in an audible rush. The room started to spin. The words got stuck in her head, replaying over and over until she wanted to press her hands over her ears and scream.

_Mother died in childbirth. Mother died in childbirth._

_Died. Died. Died._

_Just as her own mother had._

She sat down on the edge of the bed and swallowed back the hot, acid sting of bile. If Pod guessed the effect those words had on her, he didn't mention it. He continued in the same tone as before. "After graduation under dubious circumstances entered the United States Navy. Seems your lion excelled there. Commendations galore, rose rapidly through the ranks, selected for Special Ops, etcetera, etcetera... Oh, this is interesting. Areas of specialty include reconnaissance, close-quarter battle tactics, and edged weapons."

"He's a knife-fighting expert," Brienne exclaimed."Why do the Gods hate me, Pod?"

"I wasn't even finished,Brienne."

She groaned. "Don't tell me there's more."

"You'll love this. After almost a decade in special ops, he joined his father's private security firm—"

"Security firm? I thought his father was a business mogul of some sort."Her eyes bulged in horror.

"Tywin dabbles in many things. He's best known for LannisterCorp, but he has top secret side businesses. Back to the important stuff... Jaime provides armed security services for high-profile clients, federal and local governments, law enforcement and intelligence agencies, and multinational corporations. Damn and here we thought he was only cashing in daddy's checks without actually doing anything"

Her silence must have lasted a long time, because Podrick eventually asked "Are you still there?"

"He's a merc." Came a quiet reply, mixed with misery and disbelief. "Of all the men in all the world who could've been occupying that room, he's a mercenary. A _knife-wielding_ mercenary."

"Yes," Podrick drawled, amused. "He certainly is. Am I to take it this will be a problem?".

Brienne gritted her teeth and straightened her spine. "I've never missed a deadline yet, have I?"

"That's my girl,wipe the floor with him."said Podrick, his voice a purr. "See you on the other side." As always, he hanged up with that cryptic goodbye.

"Well, it could be worse," Brienne thought out loud in the empty room. "At least it's not raining. The climb up to The Sultan's balcony would be really treacherous in the rain."

From somewhere off in the distance came a low roll of thunder.

_You had got to be kidding._

                                                                                                               * * * * * *

Brienne spent the rest of the day racking her brain on the best tactical ways to approach this whole Jaime Lannister debacle. He was far more dangerous than she ever realized, knowing that made her stomach churn. She needed this to go as smoothly as possible and Jaime was a huge hindrance in her plans. Gods, truly must have hated her. One other thing she wasn't sure about was what he could possibly want from _her_ ? She knew why she approached him. It was a job. A cover. Means to an end. But Jaime? Could he know who she was? Brienne was wanted all over the world. Law enforcements, intelligence agencies you name it, the whole shebang. The illustrious Laverna—In Roman mythology was a goddess of thieves, cheats and underworld. To young Brienne it seemed very fitting, in the most ironic way possible. It seemed fun and exciting to leave a trace after a job. It became a business card of some sort. Everyone who was anyone in the criminal world knew who to contact if they needed something stolen. It made her quite famous but it also made certain individuals look way closer than she would've liked...Now? Brienne couldn't stress enough how stupid she was! Every job she's done could come back to bite her in the ass if she was ever caught and identified as Laverna. But that's a whole other set of problems. Today's was one Jaime Lannister. At least she knew who she was dealing with now. A fucking mercenary. You know what they say about not judging the book by it's cover? Yeah that definitely applied to Jaime. Who did she compare him to earlier? A model, an actor? Ha he knew 20 different ways to kill her without rousing suspicion and still looked too good to be true. She was a skilled thief and a con artist, also a decent shot and could work with any kind of weapon, but it still didn't compare to official Navy seal training. She'd have to outsmart him in other ways. Margaery was right a little bit of booze, a relaxed environment and Brienne could still walk out of this unscathed. She'd just have to turn it up a notch, and try to figure out what's his deal while she was at it. Mind still swirling with all the possibilities of how tonight would go Brienne got ready. Slipped on her sapphire blue maxi dress that billowed all around her and had quite a slit to show off her long legs before checking if the gear she'll need later wasn't visible.Dark, ankle strap heels followed, making her look even taller, if that was possible. She liked it. It gave her a sense of authority and she felt safer. As she was looking at her reflection in the mirror the clock struck 6:45 PM. _It was time_ Brienne thought.

_Let the games begin._

                                                                                                                * * * * * *

Jame took his time as he made his way through the hotel to the lobby. Anticipation buzzed inside his gut as if he'd swallowed a beehive. All his senses were heightened. Sharpened. It was hard to turn off whatever the hell navy ingrained in him. _But this was a vacation,_ he had to remind himself. A vacation where he had to see Cersei, but a vacation nonetheless. If it wasn't for Tyrion he would've said fuck you to these "family" activities long ago. But as Tyrion liked to remind him, he couldn't leave his little brother to deal with this shitshow of a family by himself. And what a shitshow it was. The only happy ones were probably his niece and nephews who were still too young to pick up on all the hostility around them. Cersei's hostility for Robert and Tyrion and for him. How one woman could be so spiteful was beyond his imagination. She hated their brother for their mother's death even though he was but a helpless baby. She hated Robert for agreeing to their father's merger-marriage arrangement. Even though he'd come to truly care for her and treated their children like royalty. And most of all she hated her twin brother...because after joining navy to escape his father's aspirations to take over the LannisterCorp wheel, he evaluated his life choices and decided that fucking his own sister wasn't as "normal" as she once made him believe. Cersei never forgave him for abandoning her in _that_ way. She just pushed him away once she realized it would never be like that between them again. When he was young, after their mother's death it felt like Cersei was the only person he had, the only one who truly understood him. His feelings seemed valid at the time, but as years went by she didn't understand him quite as much as he had believed. Jaime had to work through a lot to realize what they did was wrong, twisted even. And now here he was all these years later waiting for one of the most unusual women he had ever encountered. For one, she looked nothing like Cersei, that was a definite bonus. As Jaime had come to realized he had very singular tastes. He didn't want to be tied down and his preferences varied day to day. Before Cersei he never looked anywhere else so the realization that the world had many different things to offer hit him hard. Tyrion was the black sheep of the family, Cersei their father's loyal soldier and he...he was the playboy of the family, as the press liked to put it. And this time Jaime found Brienne Tarth quite fascinating and the prospect of him sitting through one hell of a dinner didn't seem as bad knowing she would be there. She seemed like a woman who didn't scare easily so Cersei's wrath wouldn't send her screaming. _Hopefully._ Jaime thought. But she also seemed dodgy, the way she spoke sometimes seemed as if it was rehearsed in front of a mirror more than once, at times this Brienne felt fake and it intrigued Jaime even more. She was hiding something, probably even lying and he couldn't wait to figure out what it was. They were both playing a cat and mouse game. And he had no intention of losing. Jaime didn't have to wait long. A few minutes before 7PM the elevator opened and she walked out. He didn't believe she could look better, but the dress she was wearing matched her blue eyes perfectly and made her otherwise plain face stand out. Jaime's gaze swept her up and down, stopping on the high slit of her dress. _Oh, he'd enjoy taking that off later_ he thought. The freckles on her cheeks were dancing in the dim light of the lobby and he couldn't stop looking at her. Never mind that he had to _actually_ look up to stare at those sapphire like eyes because she seemed even taller.

A lazy grin crept on his face "My lady. You look stunning." This mysterious vixen only rolled her eyes before proceeding to go in the restaurant's direction.

"So, did you secure the investment for your boss?" Jaime tried to indulge her by taking notice of her job. There wasn't a quiver in her voice when she answered "I did."

"How'd it go?" From the corner of his eye, Jaime could see her mysterious smile.

"There were some unexpected difficulties near the end, but nothing insurmountable. I think my boss will be very pleased with how it turns out." "Turns" out, not "turned" out. Which indicated the negotiations were still in progress, but she just said she finished it. Interesting. Jaime made a vague "hmm" sound and settled his arm around her waist. Their steps fell in sync like they've been walking together for years. When the two of them reached the restaurant, Jaime checked in with the hostess. She said the rest of their party was in the bar, so they headed over there. Gods, give him strength to deal with the circus that was to come.

"I'll have to warn you, Blue. My family can be....quite colorful".

A throaty laugh escaped Brienne's lips. "So that's why you were so relentless earlier. Needed a mediator? And who better than someone who doesn't know them already." Ah, she's cheeky. He liked it.

"Hey everyone" He said when they reach their party. "This is Brienne." Jaime introduced her to Shae, who was wearing what looked like a burgundy tube sock for a dress, his brother Tyrion, in his usual all-black ensemble and Robert in his trademark Hawaiian shirt with the kids. Cersei was nowhere to be seen. _Could he be so lucky?_ Jaime thought. After the introductions were made and everyone had said a friendly hello, he asked Tyrion "Where's Cersei?"

"She wouldn't come out of her room. She was spewing something about not mixing with lower classes". Tyrion rolled his eyes, indicating that yes their sister was that big of a drama queen.

"I love your dress!!" Shae exclaimed after finally managing to untangle herself from Tyrion's side.

"Thank you. And I love your tattoos. Especially the lion one". Brienne pointed out the tasteful lion tattoo on his sister-in law's shoulder.

"I got it for my little lion". Shae giggled before showering Tyrion with kisses. Jaime and his date exchanged amused glances.

"And I love your Tinker Bell doll," Brienne gave little Myrcella an encouraging smile. "She was always my favorite Disney character."

"She's mine, too!" His niece said, smiling. "She's super cool."

"But also fragile. She can't exist unless Peter believes in her. Faith is the only thing that keeps her alive."

Jaime saw the instant Myrcella's curiosity kicked into gear. If she were a cat, her ears would've just pricked and her tail would've begun twitching. "All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixiedust." She said in a sing along voice.

Without hesitation, his mysterious date responded. "Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting." Myrcella clapped her hands.

"Oh my God! Uncle Jaime can we keep her?!" Most of the adults started laughing but his date blushed like a ripe tomato. Huh. So she was shy after all. She seemed so above opinions of others, but if there was one thing about kids was that they brought out the real you.

"I'll have to get back to you on that, Myrcella". Jaime ruffled the little one's hair, but not before giving Brienne the biggest grin ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be shy. Tell me what you guys think. I love and need feedback to thrive lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back again. I was hit by inspiration to write the last few days, so much so I've written a bit ahead haha  
> I'm posting chapter 3 right now and chapter 4 should be up by the end of the weekend?! *don't jinx don't jinx it*  
> Next week, however, I'll have my the end of the ear exam so I'm not sure how active I'll be.  
> Anyway, back to regularly scheduled chapters :)

An hour later, dinner was over, Tyrion and Shae were fondling each other under the table, and Brienne had become fast friends with the kids. Before long Tyrion was buzzed enough to start talking about their latest job. Which was confidential of course, but never mind him.

Beside Jaime, Brienne fell still. Her gaze cut from Tyrion to him. "You two work together?"

"Yeah. Our father was very insistent we used our talents to further the Lannister name any way we could. Tyrion usually assists." Jaime gave his brother a sly look.

"Assists?" Brienne asked tightly.

Tyrion looked back at Brienne and said the same thing he always did when someone asked what he did for a living, with the same flat, no more questions delivery. "I'm into computers."

It's like a wall came down over Brienne's face. Her smile vanished. The light went out in her eyes. "You're a hacker," she said tonelessly.

That almost jolted Jaime out of his seat. How the fuck did she put that together? Tyrion and Jaime glanced sharply at each other. His brother merely smiled."I prefer the term social engineer."

She laughed. "And you Robert? Do you work with them too?" There was an edge in her voice.

Robert snorted like a farm animal "Gods no. I've got my own thing going. I co-own a law firm with my older brother Stannis. I'm a senior partner".

"Fascinating." She still seemed to be on high alert. Brienne was pretty good at concealing her emotions, but Jaime was better at reading people. And right now, the thing she most wanted to do was bolt. And he wanted to know why...

"Ready to go?" He smiled before moving to stand.

"Yes, please."

After the goodbyes Jaime and Brienne left the restaurant, heading straight for the elevator. He had to admit he'd enjoyed his time with Brienne, but there was something off about her, she was a true enigma which made her that much more interesting. Sure there was the physical aspect of it. Jaime wanted her, but more than that he wanted to know her, the  _real_  her. He wasn't as dense as he liked to appear, he didn't believe for one second that she was here for an investment. His intuition told him she was flat lying to him and he didn't seem to mind. As soon as the elevator's doors closed they were chest to chest, toe to toe.

Jaime whispered "Let's play a game, Blue. It's called Truth or Dare." Brienne swallowed.

"I'll go first. I choose Truth. Ask me anything you want, and I'll answer it truthfully." Brienne silently searched his face for a moment. He wondered what she saw.

In a husky whisper, she asked "Can I trust you?"

"Now  _that's_ an interesting question." He brushed his fingertips across her jaw, "I could ask you the same thing. But since it's my turn, I'll honor the rules of the game and give you an answer."

Her face didn't seem to betray a thing. "It depends." An alarm buzzed. They both ignored it.

"Depends on what?" She asked.

"How you define trust."

A sultry smile appeared on her face. She took a step closer, curling her fingers in the lapels of his jacket. "That's not an answer."

Jaime dipped his head and skimmed her nose, down her neck to her collarbone. She shivered but tried to suppress it, which made him smile. He nuzzled his face into Brienne's neck, breathing in her scent. "Can I trust  _you_?" He asked into her neck.

She arched against him, moaning softly when he opened his mouth over the pulse of her neck. "Of course you can," A breathless whisper left her mouth.

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. "Fuck, I love the way you lie! Okay. Since we're obviously not gonna do too well with Truth, let's move on to Dare."

His gaze dropped to the neckline of Brienne's dress.

                                                                                                               * * * * * *

The look in Jaime's eyes was what could only be described as hunger. Hunger for  _her_. She knew exactly what was coming next. Time to apply the brakes. She couldn't let herself get distracted, she had a job to do, and it was harder and harder to focus with Jaime's hands on her body.

She placed a hand flat on his chest, and leveled him with a look. "Let's  _not_ move on to Dare. Let's just have a drink, Lannister, and put a pin in this."

Beneath her hand, his heart thudded like there was someone inside his rib cage whacking it with a sledgehammer. Hers was doing the same thing. Not only because he turned Brienne on like nobody's business, but also because she was unsettled. This man could sniff out a lie like a dog sniffs out a rat. And worse than that? Far worse? He knew she was lying,  _and he didn't care_. Brienne didn't know what to make of that. She didn't know what he had planned. All she was sure about was that she was far out in rough water, there was a dangerous riptide, and something with a mouthful of sharp, hungry teeth was closing in. Jaime took her hand from his chest and kissed it.

He sent her a dazzling game-show-host smile. "We'll go as slow as you'd like, Brienne." Gods, the way her name rolled from his tongue made her knees weak.

When they arrived at his suite, anticipation buzzed through every ending in Brienne's body. This was it, her in. She watched in fascination as Jaime took several minutes to disarm and unlock a series of electronic and mechanical security devices hidden behind various pieces of furniture and on all the doors, including the one to the bathroom. His paranoia seemed like overkill, even to the woman planning on drugging him later tonight.

Amused, she asked, "Were you expecting company? Other than me, I mean."

He turned to her with a twinkle in his eye. "Better safe than sorry. You never know when someone with sticky fingers might take a stroll through your door."

Brienne's heart stopped. It started back up with a painful beat, then fluttered erratically while she drew a breath. She decided the best way to handle this was with a frontal attack. He'd probably know if she was bullshitting anyway. Looking him dead in the eye, she said, "I'm not here to steal from you." Which was true. She was only here to use him, so she could steal from someone else. Not that it was any better in the grand scheme of things.

Jaime's smile came on slow. He wandered over to Brienne, moving casually, his arms loose at his sides. He stopped in front of her and murmured, "I know. I just haven't figured out what you  _are_ here for."

Brienne couldn't tell if he was talking about here in his room, here in this hotel, or here on this island. Possibly all three. Everything he said to her now seemed layered with meaning. It's all innuendos and undertones. Insinuation was his middle name.

He touched Brienne's cheek. Great he was the touchy type. Or was he trying to distract her? It was starting to work. "Why're you looking at me like that, Brienne?"

"I'm trying to decide if I like you or not."

"Oh, you do. You just don't want to. The question is why."

She hated how easily it was for him to read her. Brienne wasn't sure if it was the training or was he just that intuitive. Either way she didn't like it. She'd built so many walls over the years and he was tearing them left and right. It was time to even the playing ground. Jaime Lannister was trying to gain insight into who she was, and she needed to steer the conversation far away from that can of worms.

"Pour me a drink while I take off these heels. They're killing me. Being a femme fatale is hell on the feet." He blinked. Then he laughed. It's a sound she enjoyed far too much. She could even admit she might miss hearing it after tonight.

"I've got a full minibar, Blue" he said, grinning. "Name your poison."

"Bourbon." She figured the stronger the drink the sooner the drugs would start to work and he'd blackout.

Jaime arched his eyebrows. And nodded approvingly. "America's number one spirit. Interesting choice for a girl from Spain. Thought wine was all the rage there." He winked and sauntered across the room toward the mini bar, leaving her astonished once again.

He suspected she wasn't from Spain.

_How_ did he know?

Who  _was_ this guy?

"I moved to the States as a teenager, still visit a lot though," She tried to play up her cover by incorporating his own childhood.

"That explains it, then." Jaime's tone was far too mocking. He didn't even turn, just casually proceeded to pour them drinks.

Teetering between exasperation, exhilaration, and the urge to abandon the job altogether and run away as quickly as she could, Brienne kicked off her heels, set her handbag near the mini bar, and looked around. His room was large. Built right into the side of a mountain, the resort was the playground for the rich and famous, those who required both luxury and privacy. Everything about the décor and architecture supported both needs, from the thousand-threadcount Egyptian cotton sheets to the huge wading pools on the balconies to the ban on camera use in all the public spaces. Brienne walked through the living room and stared at the view. In the distance, the ocean sparkled under patchy moonlight. Fat, gray thunderclouds slinked down the hills. A humid breeze stirred her short, blonde lob, making the hairs go in different directions.

Jaime appeared silently beside her and handed her a drink. "Gonna be a storm tonight." He looked sideways at Brienne before settling on a sofa. This time he wasn't smiling.

She gulped the bourbon. It seared a stinging path down her throat.  _Steady, Brienne. Steady._   _Who's running this show? You, or your ovaries?_ She closed her eyes, took another swig of her drink, knowing what had to come next.

"This is some good stuff. Want another one?" She asked with a flirty smile, noticing that his glass sat empty near the bar.

"By all means. If getting me drunk makes you more comfortable. I'm all for it". His eyes gleamed in the dim light.

Every move she made was calculated, strategically placing herself between the mini bar and Jaime's eyesight, Brienne carefully took out two pills from the purse she had left there earlier and snuck them into his glass before pouring in the bourbon. With her back to Jaime she could only guess what he was thinking. Carefully she refilled her own glass, letting a few seconds go by so the pills would disintegrate.He took the drink, watching her over the rim ofthe glass. One arm was stretched casually over theback of the sofa. His legs were spread wide. Somehow he seemed to fill up the entire room. Brienne had never met a man with so much presence.

_The necklace, Brienne. Eyes on the prize._

 A heartbeat passed before Jaime took a swig from his glass. Her heart started beating faster. All she had to do now was wait and make sure Jaime stayed occupied enough, so when morning came he'd think he simply passed out. Brienne moved closer, straddling his legs. She wasn't sure she was doing this because it was convenient to her con or because she just wanted to know what it felt like to be in his strong arms.

"There you are" he said softly, putting the now empty glass on a coffee table.

"You only have a few hours until I turn into a pumpkin," Brienne warned him. "Make them count."

He chuckled. "Goddamn, I love a bossy woman." He had no idea Brienne wasn't particularly lying. She would be gone before the dawn, never to be seen again.

"Then you're in luck, Jaime Lannister." She pulled his face toward her.

"Tell me you feel that, too," Jaime whispered , "Tell me I'm not crazy and you can feel that."

Seconds ticked by in silence as they stared at each other. His expression was that of a man trying to solve a fascinating, frustrating puzzle. He pulled Brienne closer and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply, combing his fingers through the short strands. Brienne was trying to concentrate on quelling the tremor in her body. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and breathed in and out with her eyes closed, every nerve in her body primed to his touch.

_This is unprofessional. And dangerous._ You  _don't do this. You_ never  _do this! When will those pills kick in, dammit?!_

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do,"Jaime murmured against her neck. "You're in control of this. Tell me to stop, and I will." His intuition was preternatural, making her feel weak. How did he know what she needed to hear right now? Somehow she had to make her mind go blank.

_Think of Podrick. Think of Margaery. Think of the necklace. Think of how close you all are_   _to being free._

Then she couldn't seem to think at all because Jaime slowly skimmed his lips from Brienne's earlobe down to her collarbone, inhaling at the base of her throat, slightly nibbling his way down...

"Fuck, I love the way you smell." His voice was guttural with desire. Brienne bit her lip to stop the groan from escaping. He made a masculine sound deep in his throat and flexed his hips. She barely resisted the instinct to rock against the bulge in his tailored pants.

Barely.

Brienne sensed that he was smiling, but couldn't bother to look down to check. He grew bolder and bolder, pressing soft kisses against the swell of her breasts. He was being so gentle. So slow. It was maddening. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, tightening his arms around her waist.

"Yes. No. Yes. Fuck."

His laugh was soft and filled with lust. "Hmm. I'd say you need more input before you can make an informed decision."

Still in perfect control, he released one hand from Brienne's waist so he could squeeze her small breast. Her shaking fingers slipped around the back of his neck. Brienne had never felt quite so lavished. So worshipped. The desire to squirm on his lap to find some relief for the ache between her legs was almost irresistible.

"Talk to me, Brienne" he murmured, circling his thumb over the thin layer of her dress straps.

Her body wanted this so much, a riot was breaking out inside her. Brienne's brain was overwhelmed with lust hormones wielding hammers until rational thought was all but impossible.

"I...I want...please..." She couldn't even recognize her own voice.

"That's a yes if I've ever heard one," Jaime muttered.

In one lightning-fast motion, he flipped her onto her back on the sofa and knelt between her spread legs. Out in the dark night sky, thunder boomed. The breeze picked up, fluttering the pages of a magazine on the coffee table. Brienne's heart ached as if she was dying. No one had ever looked at her like this. Like she was a wild, endangered animal that needed to be treasured and protected if it was going to survive. He might as well be a penitent kneeling in front of a cross for all the reverence in his eyes. The fervor in his gaze was religious. He slowly slid his hands down her spread thighs, ruffling her dress along the way. He traced his index finger lightly around the tattoo on Brienne's right hip. His questioning gaze flashed up to hers.

"Dragonflies live a short life," She whispered, mesmerized by the ardor in his eyes. "They know they have to make every moment count."

 She pulled him to her and crashed their lips together, she could feel he was smiling.

There were kisses, and there were  _kisses._  Slow, deep, and incredibly hot, this one won best in show. Only seconds in, and Brienne was helplessly squirming. Briefly, she wondered, how many women it must've taken for him to perfect his technique, then decided she didn't want to know. This was heaven. She wanted to remember this forever, sear this memory into her mind so she could take it out and admire it later on. Brienne wished she could stay in this moment forever, but she knew the end was inevitable. 

_He'd never find her. No one could. She'd vanish like she always did._  

Before things could take an even more intense turn, Jaime broke off the kiss and sat up.

"I'm sorry...uh...I feel..." He tried to work his jaw, but there was no luck. Jaime tried standing up only to slump on the sofa.

"It's okay. I'm right here". Brienne whispered as she realized what was happening. The pills were kicking in. She had almost forgotten. The lust induced fog cleared and Brienne realized she almost broke the most crucial rule of all _—_  never sleep with a mark.

                                                                                                              * * * * * *

It was almost midnight, The Sultan and his bride should've been passed out by now. Her gaze crept to Jaime's silhouette. Even passed out, he was attractive. Brienne rolled him onto to his back and checked his pulse. Normal. His breathing was deep and even. Those beautiful lips beckoned her to kiss them, but she stopped herself before she could.  _Gods, what was going on with her?_  He was just a man. And yet the effect he had on her was disconcerting. The next step in her plan included making sure that when the morning came Jaime couldn't connect her disappearance with the chaos that would be going on once she had lifted the jewels. He couldn't be considered a witness. Because if he was...well he knew her name, her _real_  name. So she moved him to the bedroom, then took a pen and paper and scribbled something a long the lines of having a great time and having to catch her flight early. If she got lucky, he'd think he didn't remember much because of the alcohol.  _Who was she kidding though?_  He was a navy seal, former but still, he'd find the whole thing very suspicious. But as long as he didn't connect Brienne to the theft it didn't really matter what he thought of her. Or that was what she kept telling herself. There was no time for regret. For wondering about might-have-beens. It was, however, time to get to work. The dress she wore to dinner wasn't exactly made for climbing balconies, but it would do. It had other purposes. Brienne ripped out the section of hem where she had sewed the micro compass. She placed it carefully in her mouth, tucked between her cheek and teeth. She didn't bother with the handcuff key or the razor blade sewn into different spots in the lining of the dress. Neither safeguard had become necessary...yet. She did, however, need the map with her bug-out route through the hills, so she found her shoes and cracked the left one sharply against the wall. The dainty heel broke off. The little folded map fluttered out like piñata candy. She tucked the map into the waistband of her panties. In the closet, she pulled out two pairs of Jaime's dress shoes. Swiftly removing the laces and tying them into square knots. Wrapped around the drainpipe that ran the length of the building next to the balconies, they could then be tied into Prusik knots, the kind rock climbers used. They'd slide up a line, but downward pressure would cause them to lock. Perfect for scaling walls. Brienne looked at Jaime's laptop on the coffee table for a moment, but decided he'd have too much security on the device to make it worth an attempt at snooping. She'd never get past the login screen. Besides, her curiosity about him was useless. No matter what, this was the end of their road. She made sure she left nothing behind, taking her broken heels and the purse which was empty at this point. Slowly opening the room, she left the door ajar and walked out to find the closest trash can to discard the evidence she was ever in Jaime's room. Earlier in the day she made sure to remove all her belongings from her own suite and stash them at her randezvous point. Once back in the suite, she quietly shut the door and dared one last glance at her mark.

_The golden lion indeed._

Then Brienne stepped out onto the balcony into the warm night rain, and looked up. She had quite a way to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave feedback below.  
> Until the next time,  
> Ciaoooo 😘


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope everyone's having a great weekend. I've been sitting at home with my nose in text books *SOMEONE SAVE ME PLEASE* I took a minute to upload the new chapter so yaaay I had so much fun writing this one because we get to delve a little bit into Brienne's past. Only a bit though. Her background is gonna get revealed in a few next chapters. Right now it's like puzzle peaces. Also there's mentions of a new character *have fun with that one* lmao

A fist pounded on Jaime's hotel room door. Over and over, as relentless as the thudding inside his skull. The two were so perfectly in sync, in fact, that it was entirely possible the pounding fist was in his imagination.

Until he heard a muffled shout. "Jaime Lannister! Open the door before we kick it down!" He couldn't place the voice. No matter how hard he tried.

Jaime opened his eyes...and was looking at a smooth white ceiling. For some reason, he was lying on his back in a spacious bed. Was it his bed? He felt like he was coming down from the biggest hangover in years. And someone was pounding on the door, shouting like a maniac.  _What the fuck happened?_ When Jaime lifted his head, the room blurred for a moment before settling. An unfamiliar bitter taste lingered on the back of his tongue. Bourbon? The faintest scent of raspberry and sandalwood teased his nose before disappearing like a ghost. Then he remembered  _exactly_ what happened, well...he sort of did. Jaime remembered the diner, then taking Brienne back to his room, having a couple of drinks, finally getting to the R rated stuff and then—nothing. Speaking of his mystery date, where was she? Jaime wildly looked around. It was almost noon. The rain had stopped. Everything was still and quiet, except for someone who was trying to break his suite door down. He glanced over the nightstand where he saw a little piece of paper on it, with a delicately scribbled message:  _Had to catch an early flight. Last night was fun —B._

Last night was fun?  _How fun was it?_  Because Jaime couldn't remember shit. His head was pounding as if a truck had hit him and the damned shouting wasn't helping.

"I'm coming!" He shouted, his voice was hoarse. Besides the headache and the small bit of vertigo which had now cleared Jaime was starting to feel more and more like himself again.

Muttering, he stomped to the door and yanked it open. "What?" He hollered. Then he blinked. In the doorway stood the resort manager, bristling and veiny like Wolverine. Behind him, a small crowd had gathered—several uniformed people who appeared to be hotel staff, half a dozen police officers, and four burly Middle Eastern men wearing identical black three-piece suits and murderous expressions. Jaime pegged them as security or bodyguards, judging by their size and general vibe of badassery.

"Good morning, Mr.Lannister I'm the general manager of the hotel. Uh, we're so sorry to disturb you..." He cleared his throat. "But there's been an unfortunate incident. These officers need to ask you some ques—"

"WHERE'S THE NECKLACE?" boomed one of the thugs.

Before Jaime could utter a word, to ask what was going on, one of the officers stepped forward "Mr. Lannister we need to search your suite. The Sultan of Brunei has been robbed. You might want to let us in before we're forced to incarcerate you." That came from one of the police officers to Jaime's right. He was tall, coal black, and slim as a sapling, with unusual eyes the color of grass. His hand rested casually on the butt of the sidearm strapped to his waist. His tone was impassive, but the subtext was clear.  _You're in big trouble, son._

"Anything to assist an officer of the law." No matter what situation Jaime ended up in, he knew keeping a cool head and collecting himself was the right move. He had no idea why would someone accuse him of robbery, but he wasn't about to roll over and admit defeat. He turned and sauntered toward the living room. No one else made a peep, except for one of the swarthy bodyguards, who muttered something in Arabic under his breath. Jaime didn't speak the language, but his life had been threatened enough times by dangerous men speaking foreign tongues that he got the gist. As soon as they were let in the police officers were busy sniffing around his room.

"The suits who'd like to separate my head from my body? Who're they?" Jaime asked the head of this investigation.

"Personal security for one Hassanal Bolkiah,"

"Saudi?"

"Yes. Super rich. Oil money, of course. And a bona fide sultan, to boot." The officer jerked his chin at the ceiling. "Honeymooning in the suite right above this very room."

They stared at each other for a beat as Jaime processed what he'd told him. After a few seconds, it clicked.

"Fuck. You really think I'd steal something from a Saudi sultan and then stick around to watch shit unfold?"

"This room was the only vantage point to get into the Sultan's suite, the doors weren't breached, the bodyguards confirmed so."

From outside on the balcony, another official continued. "A Persian emerald necklace once owned by Fath Ali Shah was stolen. It's worth fifteen million dollars."

"You know who I am right?? If I wanted a bloody necklace I'd buy one. Doesn't really go with my aesthetic though. I'm more of a watch man myself." Jaime answered with a cocky smile.

He could tell by the cop's expression that he'd really like to throw his ass in jail, "Who had access to this room? We're aware Tywin Lannister's son wouldn't be so sloppy as to steal from one of the most dangerous men in the world and then go back to sleep like nothing ever happened."

"A woman...I spent the night with a woman who called herself Brienne Tarth." Jaime mused out loud. Fuck. Did he just get duped? By a con-artist?

"Miss. Tarth checked out of the hotel late last night. Besides it's clearly a work of a professional thief. A woman couldn't handle such an operation." The lowly island officer dismissed Jaime's bold claim before sharing a chuckle with his colleagues.

Last night? If she checked out last night why'd she leave the note implying she left early this morning? Shit wasn't adding up. And these men couldn't see past their superiority complexes and prejudice to realize that, in fact, she could've been the one responsible.

"There's nothing here, chief". One of the officers called out from his bedroom, while the rest were tearing his suite apart.

"Well, it looks like you're off the hook. For now." He eyed Jaime carefully. "Pack it up, boys."

Before the last officer could leave the room Jaime was already dialing Tyrion's number.

                                                                                                                 * * * * * *

"Well, you sure know how to pick them, brother." Tyrion chuckled.

"What about this is funny to you? The part were I was probably drugged or the part were I was accused of stealing a fifteen million dollar necklace?" Jaime was more than annoyed at this point. He was pissed. And he wanted answers.

"If it took you out within a few minutes, my best guess is Rohypnol, modified with something to make it work faster. I'd examine it if I were there" Bronn's response blared over the phone's loud speaker. He was Tyrion's college buddy who became their freelance co worker on some assignments that required his particular set of skills. He had a knack for chemistry, determining and concocting unusual substances was his thing.

"Thanks for your input, Bronn." Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"And you're sure it was the broad who took off with the jewels?"

"No. I don't have any concrete evidence, but she was acting dodgy...and I wouldn't just pass out in the middle of-"

"We get it, Lannister. You were about to get some. Lucky bastard." Bronn muttered.

"Yes. So lucky. The cops on my ass were a special delight for sure." He mockingly answered his friend as he and his brother were making their way down the corridor.

"I can do a background check on her." Tyrion suggested.

"No use. You won't find anything. If she's a thief there's no way she told me her real name. It's probably an alias. She wouldn't be that stupid."  _Would she?_

"I've got a friend in Interpol, he said that it could be one of their most sought after thieves. They like to keep the important information from lower level officials, that's why the delightful gentlemen form earlier knew nothing concrete. And if she and this thief are one and the same...well let's just say this woman is on pretty much  _everyone's_ most wanted list."

"What's her name?" Jaime demanded.

Tyrion lifted a shoulder. "Who knows? She's got fifteen known aliases, probably plenty more that aren't known. Been doing big jobs for a long time. Jewels, mainly. The occasional piece of art. Never been caught."

Jaime scoffed. "How could a thief who looks like her never be caught? She stands out like a fucking neon sign!"

"If you saw the Interpol file, you might think differently."

"Disguises?" He sounded doubtful.

"Up the wazoo. Eyewitnesses describe her as anywhere from twenty to fifty years old. Blonde, redhead,black, short and long hair. Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes. Walks with a limp. Walks with no limp. Has a lisp. Has an Irish accent. French. Italian. Spanish.You name it. She's no one. She's everyone. She's impossible to pin down. Apparently she's known in criminal circles as The Golden Hand. But my Interpol friend says law enforcement calls her Laverna. Because she usually leaves her signature near the job". Before Tyrion could continue he abruptly stopped near one of the trash cans. He saw something glimmer....was that a purse?

"Shit. Laverna? I've heard of this broad before. Doesn't she always work with a pal though? Maybe it's not her if she was alone." Bronn mused.

Before Jaime could answer he saw his brother stop in his tracks. "Tyrion, we need to catch a flight back to New York. What are you standing over there for?"

Jaime's brother lifted a small purse and a highheeled black shoe from the bin. The heel was broken off. Examining it, he turned to Jaime. "Could this be your lady friend's? That's a nice little hidey-hole carved in there. Perfect size for some cash."

"Or a flash drive," Jaime said, grudgingly impressed.

"Or a compass, an ID—" Bronn offered.

"A map," Jaime finished.

                                                                                                              * * * * * *

Specializing in buying and selling rare coins, gold, jewels, diamonds, and valuables since 1979, Roseberry auction house had retail boutiques in most of the largest cities in the world. But the London boutique was the one Brienne always visited upon completion of an assignment. And not because it was company headquarters. Ignoring the cold and the gray drizzle, she stood across the street for a few minutes before going in. The shop was charming glimpsed through its beveled-glass windows. It was brightly lit, stuffed with antiques, the walls crowded with original oils by artists of all levels of fame and importance, as well as the occasional exquisite forgery to be sold to a  _nouveaux riche_ collector more concerned with impressing his friends than demanding certified provenance. Inside the shop, Podrick stood behind a massive oak counter carved with a relief from Beowulf of warriors on horseback battling a dragon. He was examining a ring. He held a jeweler's loupe to one eye, holding the ring up to the light. _How did they end up in this mess? The things she did for her loved ones..._  Brienne stepped off the curb, avoiding a muddy puddle, and hurried across the street. Her heels clicked against wet cobblestone. The bell over the door jangled cheerfully when she came in. Brienne was hit with warmth and the sweet, smoky scent of the incense burning next to a votive candle in a cubby on the wall. Amy Winehouse played softly in the background, crooning _you know that I'm no good._

Podrick looked up. Catching sight of her, he smiled. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

"No that wicked. Not _yet_ anyway," Brienne replied drily.

Podrick abandoned the jeweler's loupe and ring to the counter and held out his arms. "It's good to see you."

She didn't bother removing her rain-slicked overcoat. Brienne simply went to him and let him enfold her in his arms. It had been 3 months since the last time they'd set their eyes on each other.

"Margaery returned this morning too. I wonder how long the band will stay together this time." Pod mused as he released Brienne from his bear-like hug.

"Knowing our situation...Not long." She answered feeling glum.

"You must be cold, coming in after the rain. Shall I make us a cup of tea?"

"That sounds wonderful, thank you." Brienne rubbed her hands together after a slight shiver ran down her spine.

Podrick intently studied her face. "Something's happened. Tell me."

This time, she had to force a grin. She rarely liked to burden her friends. "I'm fine. Just tired from the flight. And the trek through the jungle to get to where I hid my bug-out bag. That resort was in the middle of nowhere! I was barefoot, if you can believe it. You should see the sorry state of my feet."

A faint smile lifted Pod's lips. "Hmm. You're lying."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. What's that expression your face is attempting? It looks rather comical."

She must've been losing her edge. "Stop harassing me about my face, or I won't give you what I came here for."

"You're in a delightful mood this evening, Brienne. Let me go turn the sign." Moving with noiseless grace, he walked to the front of the shop, locked the door, and flipped over the small white sign in the window. Then he lead her through the shop to a large bookcase under a staircase at the back. Neither of them mentioned that Brienne didn't have a choice about giving him what she came here to give him, even though she liked to act as if she had.

"Ladies first," drawled Pod, with a flourish of his hand.

From the bookcase, Brienne removed a slender volume bound in dark-green leather, it's title stitched in gold along the spine. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. The story of an orphan who escaped the workhouse to join a den of thieves.  _Their little inside joke._  The bookcase swung slowly open to reveal a stone corridor. She replaced the book, and they walked inside as the case swung closed behind them. The tunnel was damp, smelled of mold and mice droppings, and was badly in need of repair. After two turns, it opened into a large anteroom which was bare of decoration except for three beeswax candles burning in a tall iron candelabra beside an arched oak door so thick it could probably survive a direct hit from a cannon.

"Any trouble with your mercenary?" Podrick inquired, removing an old-fashioned skeleton key from his pocket.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." He flicked her an inscrutable look over his shoulder.

Then he inserted the key into the lock. The door opened with a groan of rusted metal hinges to reveal a warehouse of staggering opulence. There were so many priceless antiques, statuaries, paintings, sculptures, and artifacts from around the world stuffed into the space, it could've made the Vatican turn green with envy. The first time Brienne saw it, she stood gaping for a full five minutes, staring goggle-eyed like the rube she was. Part of the complex of hidden tunnels beneath London used during air raids in the Second World War, the vast, brick-walled space had been repurposed as a drop for purloined goods in transit. A quarter mile of heavy-duty steel shelving was stacked in tall, numbered rows down the center. Wood crates and boxes of all sizes overflowing with booty, glinted under the lights. The larger items were kept along the walls—or on the walls, in the case of some of the oversized paintings and tapestries. Regardless of their size, all items were barcoded and entered into an inventory software system Podrick developed himself. He was too smart for his own good. Some pieces came to cool for only a few weeks before being shipped out to their new owners. Some, like the 1727 Stradivarius violin stolen from the Manhattan penthouse of a famous conductor and still too hot to sell, had been there for decades. As with everything seen through the lens of familiarity, however, Brienne barely noticed the glittering bounty now. She shrugged out of her wet coat, shook the raindrops off, and draped it over the back of a velvet divan. Pod turned on an electric kettle. The front part of the warehouse was set up as Podrick's working space. Heavy brocade drapes in bloodred covered the walls. French crystal lamps spilled light in fractured prisms onto a Louis XVI desk inlaid with gold. The bare stone floor was covered by a thick Turkish rug. It had the air of an upscale French bordello. That's the way  _Capo_  liked it.

Podrick turned to look at his friend and mentor. "You're not carrying anything."

"Aren't I?"

His gaze swept Brienne up and down and got snagged on her throat. He gasped. "Naughty!"

This time, her grin was sincere. "I couldn't resist. Took it out of Sultan's suite the same way." From around her neck, she slowly unwound the heavy cashmere scarf she was using to hide the emerald necklace.

"Good God. Spectacular. Come into the light."

He waved Brienne closer. "Turn left a little. There." He examined the necklace without touching it. "Pity it'll have to be dismantled. The craftsmanship is exquisite."

Brienne lifted a hand and touched her finger to the center stone, a flawless thirty-carat diamond. It was heavy and cool against her skin. It  _was_  a pity the stones would have to be removed and sold separately, the gold setting melted down for scrap, but pieces like this inevitably were. It's simply easier to find buyers.

"Is that a love bite on your neck?" Podrick's eyes narrowed at the mark Jaime's teeth left near her jugular.

Brienne had to forcibly banish the memory of his face, how his voice sounded so hot and rough with desire. "I should be so lucky," She said breezily. "It's a bruise. Trek through the jungle, remember?"

"Too bad, you should really get some, Bri. Live a little. Even if we  _are_  living in a cage with a certain doom inevitably approaching." He said before apologetically glancing away and whispering " _Capo_  wants to see you. Tonight."

"Tonight?" Brienne's body went cold. Her voice high, she asked. "He's in London?" Her heart slammed against her breastbone, sending her pulse flying.

Pod met her panicked gaze. His voice was just as scared when he answered. "He flew in when he discovered you'd be here."

Brienne flushed with anger. "You mean when  _you_  told him I'd be here."

"We all have to sing for our supper," he said gently. "We live and die at his leisure. You know this."

Yes, she did know. She knew better than anyone... She looked down, swallowing back tears. When she stared at the ground a little too long, Pod took her shaking hand in his equally shaking one. She knew it wasn't his fault...and yet sometimes...Margaery and Podrick led them down this deadly rabbit hole. Climbing out seemed impossible, at times.

"I need to keep him thinking I'm loyal, Brienne."

She jerked her hand from his grasp. "He  _knows_  you're  _not_  loyal. Which is why we're in this situation in the first place."

Brienne unhooked the clasp on the necklace with a practiced flick of her wrist. It slithered down her chest. She captured it in her hands, thrusting it at Podrick because she was suddenly filled with disgust for it. At least he had the manners to look ashamed when he took it from her. "I'm sorry,it's all my fau—"

"Don't be. I knew what I was doing when I took the oath. And it was worth it, to keep you and Margaery alive after everything you both did for me. I'm just tired."

"Still. If it weren't for us trying to one-up very dangerous people, we would've never stolen what belonged to  _him_. There would be no debt to pay..."

Brienne found the nearest chair and sunk into it, dragging her hands through her hair. Podrick watched her silently, "What's done is done. We can't turn back time."

Again she was reminded of Jaime Lannister. He and Pod had that same hard speculation in their gazes, the way of making you feel utterly exposed in spite of all your careful disguises.  _Stop thinking about him, Brienne._   _Don't waste time on foolish dreams._ Exhaling heavily, she passed a hand over her eyes.

Still holding the emerald necklace, Pod spoke up. "What's going on? You're different tonight. What's happened?"

She lifted her eyes and lied again, because she had to, because she didn't want him to worry. She was the one to take care of him most of the time. Also because the notion of honor among thieves existed in the same place as Tinker Bell. Neverland, where children never aged, and all it took to keep you alive was faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust.

"Nothing," Brienne assured him, keeping her face as blank as her voice. "Now why don't you tell me where I'm supposed to meet that son of a bitch so I can get it over with."

Pod opened a drawer in the Louis XVI cabinet and removed a black velvet bag. Into it he carefully deposited the necklace. Then he drew the bag closed, put it back into the cabinet, and lifted his gaze to Brienne's.

"He's staying at the Dreadfort. And please, Bri be careful. He's in a strange mood."

"When isn't he?" She muttered.

"You'll need these." Her young protégé opened a different drawer. Another black velvet bag appeared, this one much smaller than the first. From inside came the soft chink of metal sliding against metal as he carried it over to her and placed it in Brienne's outstretched hand.

She opened the bag and peered inside, then looked at Pod with her brows pulled together. "With the compliments from, Margaery."

"I only need one to get past the doorman." Weapons weren't looked kindly upon with  _Capo._

Pod's pause could've meant anything. It was short but weighty, and told her he was carefully considering his words. "You never know what you're going to need when you're in the Dreadfort. Better safe than sorry."

Those words echoed in Brienne's ears long after she had finished her tea and left. 

                                                                                                            * * * * * *

From the outside, the Dreadfort looked like a dump. It was an abandoned, decaying textile mill in a dodgy part of town, near the docks, a block or two away from a large homeless encampment. Tourists didn't come around here. Neither did the police, who were paid handsomely to turn a blind eye. The cabbie thought she'd given him the wrong address.

"Nuttin' here but trouble, Miss," He said in a thick Cockney accent, peering through his window at the ten-story building outside. It looked deserted. All the windows were blacked out. Old newspapers and the odd bit of trash decorated the sidewalk. A skinny orange tabby cat slinked around a corner, caught sight of the cab idling at the curb, and darted back out of sight.

"No, this is it. Thank you." She handed him a fifty pound note through the opening in the plastic screen that divided them and got out of the cab. The driver didn't even offer her change before he drove off, tires squealing.

"Sissy," Brienne muttered, flipping up the collar of her coat to ward off the chill of the evening. It didn't help.

She walked down a dark alley on the side of the building until she reached an unmarked door. The reek from the dumpsters nearby was overwhelming. Brienne rapped her knuckles on the cold metal, shivering as an icy wind whipped around her face. A small window in the center of the door slid open with a clack. An eyeball peered out at her.

Then a deep male voice grunted, "Piss off."

" _Fléctere si néqueo súperos Acheronta movebo"_  Brienne whispered. 

_If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell..._

The man gave her a searing once-over. From her pocket she removed a silver coin and held it up so the eyeball could see it. "Open sesame, amigo. It's freezing out here."

The man disappears as the window slammed shut. The quiet of the alley was broken by the scrape of the door opening and the doorman's greeting, friendlier now that he'd heard the password and seen the coin. "Evening." He held out his hand. It was the size of a dinner plate. Into his palm Brienne set the piece of stamped silver. He nodded and stepped back, allowing her to pass.

Brienne walked down a short corridor lit by a single bare bulb hanging from a wire on the ceiling. A freight elevator awaited at the end, its doors gaping open. She stepped inside and pressed a button marked "Limbo." After a short ride, the doors opened again to what appeared to be the lobby of a posh hotel. The Dreadfort  _was_  a posh hotel. And a bar, a nightclub, neutral meeting space—even safe house if needed—all designed for a particular clientele. A spectacularly beautiful ginger in a tailored ivory suit smiled at Brienne from behind a marble counter to her left. Her fiery hair was gathered into a low chignon. Her skin slightly tanned. Peru must've been eventful. A gold placard on the counter read "Concierge."

When Brienne approached her counter, Margaery smiled wider. "Bri, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. I've heard you'd been moved to the Dreadfort." Brienne couldn't hide the disgust. This place was hell on earth.

"It could  _always_  be worse." Margaery replied, her meaning not escaping Brienne. Yes. It could always be worse. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere. Brienne squeezed her hands into fists, she hated this. They were the best of the best...serving one of the most disgusting creatures in this world.

Her friend noticed Brienne wasn't carrying luggage. "I take it you're not staying for long?"

"No. Do you have any messages for me?"

"Wait a second." Her fingers moved quickly over a keyboard as she glanced at the computer screen tucked below the counter. "Yes.  _Mr. Bolton_  requests you join him on the seventh floor when you arrive."

Their gazes met. Margaery's pain stricken face studied Brienne for a second, only to disappeared as fast as a pleasant smile appeared.  _Cameras. Cameras were everywhere._  The fear she felt for Brienne at being summoned to the seventh floor by the head of the European crime syndicate—Ramsay Bolton— had to be carefully hidden with a neutral look.

"Thank you, Margaery." Brienne briefly took her hand in hers.

"You're welcome. Please let me know if I may be of any service during your stay." Translation: If you required unregistered weapons, forged identity papers, armed escorts, or emergency disposal of dead bodies, Margaery was your girl.

They nodded at each other in farewell. Brienne quickly crossed the lobby, noting several familiar faces. People were checking in and out, relaxing on sofas and reading newspapers, strolling around with drinks in their hands. Exactly like people did in a normal hotel lobby. But this was no normal hotel, which Brienne was irrefutably reminded of as she entered the main elevators and looked at the row of buttons on the panel on the wall. The floors weren't numbered. Inspired by Dante's Inferno, each of the nine floors in the Dreadfort were named after one of the circles of hell. Brienne hit the button marked "Violence" and shivered as the elevator doors slid silently shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo what'd ya'll think? Jaime seems to be pressed af, more Pod is always good, right? Also who's excited to meet Ramsay??  
> I sure am ^_^ that guy...is great...really gives a lot to work with...  
> I'm off to study again :/  
> Ciaooo


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*  
> This chapter contains mentions of sex trafficking, moderate violence, physical and psychological abuse. It you don't feel comfortable please skip this chapter!

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Brienne was greeted by the sight of two men, naked from the waist up, beating each other bloody with bare fists in the middle of an open ring, with boundaries marked by a square of silver coins on the burgundy carpet. Burgundy.  _Good for concealing bloodstains._  She steeled herself against the revulsion that twisted her stomach. A barrel-chested man with no neck, a crooked nose, and a mouthful of disheveled teeth stood to the right of the doors. The only thing remotely attractive about him was his suit, a bespoke pinstripe Brioni with a midnight-blue tie and matching silk pocket square.

"Laverna." His voice was a rocky rumble, heavy with the mark of southern Italy.

"Stefan. You're looking well."

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, bambolina. It's not good for your health." He chuckled. Somehow it sounded just as Sicilian as his accent. "Capo's waiting for you." So much for the pleasant chitchat.

Stefan turned, expecting her to follow, as he always knew she would. Brienne walked behind him as he lead her around the fighting men to a sitting area on the other side of the room. The walls were painted black. The room was dim, smoky, and smelled like sweat. Incongruent to everything, the gorgeous resonance of a pure, perfect soprano singing an aria from Puccini's Madama Butterfly played on invisible speakers. Trying to ignore the grunts of pain that punctuated the opera as blows were landed, she kept her gaze averted from the pair of bloody fighters and focused on the irregular mole on the back of Stefan's bald head. But she'd already seen enough. Judging by the bruising on their bodies and how both men were panting and swaying on their feet, the fight had been going on for some time. Wouldn't be long before one of them would collect his coins and the other was dragged out by his heels and disposed of. Losers in one of Ramsay's fights didn't leave the building breathing. The sitting area was raised on a dais, flanked by a pair of floor lamps, wide enough to hold a long leather sofa and a few club chairs on either end. Six men in suits stood discreetly in the shadows at the rear, three on either side, hands clasped at their waists, faces impassive.  _His_  soldiers. Made men. Assassins. A glass coffee table in front of the sofa held a magnum of champagne on ice and two empty crystal champagne flutes. The sofa itself held two very young, nude girls—leashed with leather collars—and one dead-eyed man. In one fist he held the stub of a cigar. In the other he held the girls' leashes. He was thirty-five, maybe forty, wearing a tailored dark suit even more beautiful than Stefan's. His hair was thick and midnight black. His jaw was as hard as his eyes. He was handsome in an ugly sort of way, all the violence inside him barely contained, oozing out around the edges.

_Ramsay Bolton._

The most evil creature in the world, next to the Devil himself.

"Brienne," He said softly. "You're here." With a savage jerk of his arm, he dragged both girls off the sofa. They landed at his feet in a tangle of pale limbs and pained yelps, quickly silenced by another cruel jerk on their collars. They cowered on the carpet, heads down, clinging to his legs. Brienne's back teeth were gritted so hard, she thought  they might shatter.

"Capo di tutti capi," She said.  _Boss of all bosses._

"I am." 

Those dead eyes sliced straight through her. For a long moment, he simply stared at Brienne. Then,horribly, he started to laugh. "Stefan! Have you ever seen such a look!" He motioned to her with his cigar. A fat clump of glowing ash fell onto one of the girls, burning her leg. She pulled her lips between her teeth and whimpered.

"Ya," drawled Stefan, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. He winked at Brienne. "When some guy wants to kill me, he looks just like that."

Smirking, Ramsay tilted his head back and looked at her from under hooded lids. "You want to kill me, Brienne?"

_Only every day, you worthless piece of shit._

"I'm not in the murder business."

His smirk vanished. "You're in whatever business I say you're in."

Brienne swallowed. A cold bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Behind her, one of the fighters landed a vicious blow. The crunch of bone made the collared girls shudder.

"Yes,  _Capo._  I meant no disrespect." Gazing at her thoughtfully, he drew on his cigar. The tip burned red. He exhaled a plume of smoke. Then, without looking away from Brienne, he raised the hand that held the girls' leashes and turned to Stefan. 

"Get rid of this garbage." Stefan lead them off like they were a pair of dogs on choke chains. They crawled behind him on hands and knees toward a door on the far side of the room. Brienne couldn't watch, because she couldn't help them, and she was concentrated on swallowing the scream of impotent rage that was building in her throat. She started counting all the places she'd hidden Margaery's weapons on her body. Left thigh. Lower back. Right forearm. Shoe. She wasn't going to attempt anything because she'd be dead within seconds, but it calmed her.

Ramsay motioned for her to join him on the sofa. "Come. Take off your coat and have some champagne."

The six bodyguards watched her rebel for a moment against an order from their king. Try as she might, Brienne couldn't move, her body remained frozen. Ramsay's hand was extended toward her. His eyes glittered with malice. Very quietly, he said her name. She dragged in a breath and found the will to get her shaking fingers to untie the belt on her coat. It fell open, Capo's eyes flared, and she froze all over again. Abruptly, he stood and came to her. Ramsay cuffed her wrists in his hands and gave her a short, hard shake. Most men found her intimidating, this creature however was the one intimidating  _her_. Brienne could smell his cologne, sandalwood and cloves, and almost groaned in terror.

"You seem reluctant." His voice was low. "Are you afraid of me, darling?"

_She could die in this room, and no one would ever know. She'd never see Pod or Margaery again. She'd never see the sun again._

Brienne was hyperventilating. It must've been her fear that answered Ramsay, because she would never be so self-destructive to utter the words she said next. "Yes. But I hate myself for it. You're not worth the wasted breath."

A muscle in his jaw flexed. Ramsay looked at her dead in the eyes "I've killed men for less than that," he said, softly, deadly. His grip around her wrists was viciously tight.

She thought of Jaime Lannister again, the way he touched her body with such reverence, how he was so sweet she couldn't bear it. It was comical that she should be thinking of him at this moment. Or maybe it's madness. Either way, it gave Brienne a welcome boost of strength.

"I can't help it if you don't like to hear the truth."

 Ramsay exhaled slowly. "Always so reckless, Brienne," he said in a lover's tender murmur. "Always so proud. Do you know what I'd like to do with that pride of yours?"

Her mouth went dry. Her stomach was in knots. Ramsay leaned closer, inhaling deeply, fiery rage in his eyes "I'd like to beat it out of you."

Then he released Brienne abruptly. "Now sit your ass down on the fucking sofa!" he snarled.

 He pushed her onto the sofa, then stood glaring down at her while she waited, heart hammering, for him to pull out a gun and shoot her in the face. She wouldn't be the first to go out like this, nor the last. But Ramsay only ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his tie, smoothed a wrinkle in his beautiful jacket. "You always manage to disrupt my equilibrium."

There was an edge like a knife in his voice. He sat next to Brienne and poured champagne into both glasses. An acrid coil of smoke wafted up from the carpet beneath the coffee table where he had abandoned his cigar. Brienne took the champagne Ramsay offered, ashamed to see how hard her hands were shaking. Unsure if it would be the last taste of champagne she'd ever have, she swallowed it in one gulp. One of the fighters hit the other with a vicious undercut to the jaw. It sent him flying. As the soprano hit a high note, his body landed on the carpet with a dull thud. A tremor shook the floor under Brienne's feet. _Get up. Keep fighting. Please don't die in front of me. Please don't die and leave me here alone with him and his soldiers and nothing else to hold their attention._

"I told you to take off your coat." Ramsay had leaned back against the sofa, and was watching her from the corner of his eye. She did as he ordered, her gaze averted. She placed the coat on the arm of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. Brienne was sitting ramrod-straight, staring at nothing. 

"So you know I finished the job."

"Speak again without permission," he said casually, "and you won't walk for a week." Brienne couldn't help the ironic smile that graced her lips. Gods, this man was everything that was wrong with the universe. She had to count her blessings for all the loving, caring people she had in her life.

"Did I say something worth smiling, darling?"

Her eyes snapped to the ring. The fighter who was knocked out had rolled onto his side and was struggling to stand. It seemed like a sign, so she decided to tell him the truth. "You remind me of the things I'm grateful for."

Her honesty surprised him. Something along the lines of amusement flashed across his expression, but of course it couldn't have been amusement because Ramsay Bolton didn't have a sense of humor—because he didn't have a soul.

"How interesting. That almost sounded like a compliment. If you're not careful, I'll start to think you're sweet on me." After a beat, he added, "Although those murderous eyes tell a different story."

They stared at each other. Brienne's fingers itched to claw into his eye sockets, to dig out his eyeballs and crush them under her feet, to feel vitreous liquid, warm and gelatinous, ooze between her bare toes. She wondered if evil was contagious.

"May I please have permission to speak?" She asked politely.

His grin was unexpected. It was also terrifying. "Do you know why I enjoy you, darling?"

Ramsay  _enjoyed_  her? For the love of gods...she felt disgusted. "No, Capo. Why?"

"Because you're a warrior. Even your submission is defiant. You'd rather die on your feet than live on your knees. Like me," he added thoughtfully. Like him? Ramsay thought they had something in common? 

Revulsion curled Brienne's tongue when she muttered. "Thank you."

Her expression made Ramsay laugh.  "We could've made an incredible team, you and I. It's a pity you chose to take the oath to help repay your friends' debt instead of becoming one of my elite thieves." Brienne wished she hadn't guzzled all her champagne. She needed something to wash the taste of vomit from her mouth.

He glanced at her face. Whatever he saw there made him prompt, "You may speak."

Her plan was to try to get right down to business and find out why he called her here, but something had occurred to her that was much more important. And far, far more dangerous.

Brienne started haltingly. "I...." She almost lost her courage then. But she was gambling that the blood oath she had taken would give her some measure of protection against the worst part of his nature. Boltons valued blood oaths more than anything, except family and respect.

Ramsay's eyes blazed with anticipation. He inclined his head, permission for her to speak granted. "The girls who were with you when I came in..."

That muscle in his jaw flexed again. He looked hungry. Like a starving wild animal about to rip into a carcass with his teeth. "What about them, Brienne?"

Her name on his lips was so sinister, nothing like the soft whisper Jaime made. She had to take several breaths before she worked up the courage to speak again. "May I have them?"

He looked startled for a split second, then his face cleared with understanding. His voice came out as a hiss. "Save them, you mean. Rescue them. From me."

When she didn't answer, Capo sneered. "They're two of hundreds. Thousands. All exactly alike. You can't save them all."

Brienne stared at her hands. They were shaking. With fury or fright, she didn't really know. "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try." No matter what kind of business she was in, cruelty and human trafficking disgusted her to the core.  _Ramsay Bolton_  disgusted her to the core. With this monster they'd be dead as soon as he got bored. Just like hundreds before them.

He grabbed her jaw and forced her head around so they were nose to nose, staring into each other's eyes. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Is that a no?" Ramsay's nostrils flared. His hands clamped around Brienne's throat and started squeezing before she could react. She wanted to defend herself, but if she raised a hand to Capo—she'd surely be dead.

"You stupid fucking woman," he growled, veins popping out in his neck. "You stupid, proud, sentimental woman. You'd sacrifice yourself for two worthless whores who'd rob you and stab you in the heart the second they got the chance?" Brienne coughed and struggled against his grip. Her eyes watered. Brienne realized he was squeezing the life from her body, and she knew that very soon she'd lose consciousness, because the room was starting to fade. Suddenly Stefan strolled back into the room, wiping his hands on a white handkerchief. Ramsay caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and abruptly released her.

He stood and roared, "Fuck!" at the top of his lungs, then stalked to the ring outlined in silver, interrupting the two fighters. He grabbed one of the men by the throat and punched him so hard Brienne could hear his nose shatter all the way across the room. The fighter crumpled to the floor. Ramsay turned to the other man with an animal snarl and lunged at him, striking him with his fists over and over, mercilessly, even after the man fell motionless on his back on the carpet. Stefan watches this outburst with vague interest, his lower lip puffed out. He was still wiping his hands on the handkerchief. Brienne shivered when she realized what he's cleaning from his hands was blood. The aria from Madama Butterfly ended. The only sounds now were ragged, heaving breaths, Ramsay's and hers. He stood, spit on one of the men on the floor. He wiped his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve, then dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and inhaled a deep breath. Brienne rolled to her side on the sofa and slowly stood up. Her whole body was shaking. She coughed and gagged, dragging in excruciating breaths. Her throat was so raw and bruised, she didn't know if I'd be able to talk.

"Should I order up some sandwiches, Capo?" Stefan asked, as if he was a bored waitress in a diner.

Sweating and disheveled, his gaze disoriented,Ramsay turned and squinted at Stefan. He shook his head like a dog coming out of water. He swallowed, raked his hands through his hair, and staggered away from the bodies in the ring. Brienne couldn't tell if either man was breathing.

"It looks like you're in luck, Brienne," Capo said, panting a little. "You won't have to die tonight after all." He was looking at Stefan's bloody handkerchief. The girls...they were already disposed of.

In a moment, another song started up. Another aria. Another woman singing in her beautiful, soaring voice. She would never be able to listen to opera again.

Sounding more under control, Ramsay answered his lackey. "Yes. Order food. But not sandwiches. Steaks. Bloody rare."

"Sure thing, boss." Whistling, Stefan wandered to the elevator doors. He stepped right over one of the unconscious fighters on the way out.

"I called you here because I wanted to discuss your next job. Only two left to go under your contract." Ramsay had regained all his control now and sounded like any boss addressing any employee in a staff meeting.

Brienne couldn't look at him. Her voice came out as a painful croak. "One."

"It was one. Your dumb fucking Mother Teresa act just added another." She stayed silent, eyes lowered, impotent rage boiling in her veins.

A heavy sigh escaped from Ramsay's chest. He lowered himself to the sofa beside Brienne and poured himself more champagne. "Ah, darling," he murmured. "This isn't how I wanted tonight to go. I wanted us to have a drink, discuss business. But you always make me so goddamn... angry." His voice shook over the next words. "You should really learn a thing or two from Margaery and Podrick. They're quite more...pliable"

She didn't dare look at him. She didn't dare speak. She thought of tropical rainfall and a man who called her Blue, because he liked the color of her eyes. She tried to keep it together. She didn't want Ramsay to enjoy this anymore than he already had. After a moment, Ramsay whipped the silk pocket square from his suit jacket and dug into the silver ice bucket, rooting around the magnum of champagne. He grabbed a handful of ice, tied the ends of the pocket square together, and silently held the dripping packet out to her. Brienne took it and pressed it against her burning throat.  _Because this was her life now._

Sounding tired, Capo said, "Listen to me. The job." Brienne nodded. Ice water slid down her neck and it might as well had been acid,for how it burned.

"It's in New York. At a security company owned by Tywin Lannister. I want the top hidden security plans for one senator's inauguration. Need the bastard killed before he gets sworn in. Client wants it to be poetic. Him dying mere minutes before he's confirmed."

Brienne turned her head the moment she heard the last name 'Lannister' and stared at him with wide eyes. "Your job is to gain access to that information. I need it by the end of the month. My men need time to prep. The inauguration's in 5 weeks time".

She dropped the ice into her lap. "And before you tell me it's impossible, remember what happens to your friends if you fail." Ramsay took a long swallow from his glass of champagne. Gazing at the unmoving bodies of the men on the carpet, his voice was bitter. "You can do it. I have faith in you, Brienne. Your loyalty to those stupid friends of yours who dragged you into this mess is even stronger than your need to be a hero to whores."

When he turned back to her, his eyes had changed. Gone was any hint of humanity. What she was looking at now was the raw, brutal beast who would've strangled her to death if Stefan hadn't accidentally interrupted him.

"Now get the fuck out of my sight before I lose my temper and tear you to shreds!" the beast snarled.

Ramsay didn't have to tell her twice. Brienne grabbed her coat and stumbled away, vision blurred,rage and desperation singing in her veins, vowing for the thousandth time that someday, somehow, she'd find a way to take him down. Until then, she had to figure out how to infiltrate a company that belonged to Jaime's father. The company  _he_  worked in. After the events in St. Barts it wasn't physically possible, was it?!

And within 4 weeks.

Or her friends died.

Brienne gripped the small velvet bag of silver coins in her pocket and hurried back down to Limbo to pay a visit to the "concierge."

                                                                                                  * * * * * *

She told Margaery and Podrick everything when they arrived back to Roseberry auction house, including what happened with Jaime in the Caribbean and what Ramsay did to her at the Dreadfort.

"I swear I'm gonna kill him. Every fiber in my body wants to hang him up by his intestines." Margaery growled as she was carefully examining Brienne's neck.

"It will all be over soon," Podrick whispered, an odd vibration in his voice. "We'll honor the oath and then we'll be free. Then we can live whatever kind of life we choose, anywhere in the world. Just like before."

Brienne squeeze her eyes shut, loving the sound of those words, but knowing in a dark part of her soul that they were untrue.

"Do you honestly believed that?!" Margaery exclaimed.

"I have to. Or the last four years of servitude would've been for nothing. I have to believe it so I can manage to roll out of the bed in the morning." Podrick sounded as defeated as she felt.

"Margaery's right. Ramsay will find a way to keep me at least, blood oath or not. I'm his favorite chew toy.  All these years and all these jobs to pay off a debt have been more than promises kept. They've been a safety net. Without that safety net, it's going to be a fast and hard fall straight into the arms of a monster." She whispered before looking out of the window.

"We have to do something then. I refuse to roll over and die at his command. Or worse watch either of you succumb to that kind of fate." Margaery exclaimed.

"Just like we tried to do something when we ended up stealing Ramsay's rembrandt?" Podrick pointed out. He was the youngest but he was also the most cautious from the trio.

"We didn't kno—" Margaery began.

"Yes we didn't know it belonged to Sicilian mafia. It doesn't make the outcome any different. We bit off more than we could chew. And we dragged Brienne into it. The only reason we weren't killed on the spot was because of our skills. Capo is nothing if not resourceful."

"We have more pressing matters than arguing about how we're gonna get Ramsay off our backs." Brienne interrupted before they could start arguing.

"Right. We need to prep for New York. I'm thinking for the cover...we'll make you an executive assistant to this senator, so you'll have access to his schedule and the Lannister security team. Margaery...for you I'm thinking something along the lines of social media director? From my research it looks like he wants to up his game with the voters that re-elected him."

"Can't forget Brienne is gonna have to be Brienne  _again_ ". Margaery couldn't help but mock her friend.

"Get off my back already, guys! I thought I'd never see him again. At the time there was no harm in telling him my real name."

"And now? What if he did a deep dive on you? It will be a liability.  _He_  will be a liability once he realizes you're back." Podrick was all business.

"So what if he did? All he would've found was that I was born and raised in small island called Tarth. And for all intents and purposes I have a quiet life there. He couldn't connect Brienne Tarth to Laverna even if he wanted to. I'm just that good." She replied with a smirk.

"Famous last words, Bri."

"Thank you for your input, Pod. Now, if you don't mind, we have a plane to catch, a new con to plan, a company to infiltrate, security plans to steal and avoid one Jaime Lannister like a plague." Brienne turned and continued down the aisle. Her friends following close behind.

"We need to talk about your American. I want the juicy deets. I can't wait to see him for myself." Margaery was in one of her moods.

"He isn't my American. He isn't even American." Brienne rolled her eyes.

"Oh-ho! Really? You don't break your rules for just anyone."

"I saw a hickey on her earlier." Podrick chose the worst time to join the conversation.

"No way!! Is our baby girl growing up?" They both shared a laugh, still lightheartedly teasing Brienne.

"Maybe he's the hero we were waiting for?" Pod mused.

Brienne wasn't having any of it though. Jaime Lannister fancied himself a hero that's for sure, but no way would he want to save a woman who used him and discarded him like a rag doll "Do you know what a hero needs more than anything else?"

"Great hair? A compelling backstory? A cool name and a cape?" Margaery tried to lighten the conversation.

"A villain. And do you know what happens when a hero finds his villain?"

"They live happily ever after in the pages of a comic book?" This time it was Podrick who spoke up. That was the problem with these two...sometimes they treated life as a game. Pod was still young and naive and Margaery...well she was always like that.

Radiating annoyance, Brienne pursed her lips and exhaled. "War. War is what happens. We're creatures of the underworld. We have no business in the dealings of heroes." Both Pod and Margaery went silent.

"Just once," Podrick whispered. "I'd like to be a hero, too."

Aggravated—because he was right—Brienne pulled Oliver Twist from the bookshelf. It yawned open, revealing the dank tunnel beyond. She surprised her friends by engulfing them in a hard, heartfelt hug. She knew exactly how they felt. Brienne pulled away, wiping her cheek where a tear had escaped and forced a smile.

"Here." She handed Pod the copy of Oliver Twist." Keep this safe for us. It's our favorite, after all."

He took it, cradled it against his check, and looked at both of his friends with a goodbye in his gaze. His next words almost broke Brienne's heart. "I wish I was coming with you girls. See you on the other side."

She didn't like leaving Podrick behind, but this  was his place. And if they needed anything he'd be only a call away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I'm back and I've had one hell of a week. I've been drowning in lots of different responsibilities so if this chapter seems like a filler, well, it's because it is. I wanted to establish Ramsay x Brienne relationship so this whole chapter turned into the Ramsay Bolton show lol Next chapter is gonna pick up the pace and Jaime x Brienne interactions will be back :)  
> Please, leave your opinion and feedback!  
> See you next time.


End file.
